pride

vexation. To know that her daughter would be married was enough. She was disturbed by
no fear for her felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct.
"My dear, dear Lydia!" she cried. "This is delightful indeed! She will be married! I shall
see her again! She will be married at sixteen! My good, kind brother! I knew how it would
be. I knew he would manage everything! How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham
too! But the clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about them
directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how much he will give her.
Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a
moment. My dear, dear Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!"
Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of these transports,
by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr. Gardiner's behaviour laid them all
under.
"For we must attribute this happy conclusion," she added, "in a great measure to his
kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself to assist Mr. Wickham with
money."
"Well," cried her mother, "it is all very right; who should do it but her own uncle? If he
had not had a family of his own, I and my children must have had all his money, you know;
and it is the first time we have ever had anything from him, except a few presents. Well! I
am so happy! In a short time I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well it
sounds! And she was only sixteen last June. My dear Jane, I am in such a flutter, that I am
sure I can't write; so I will dictate, and you write for me. We will settle with your father
about the money afterwards; but the things should be ordered immediately."
She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, and cambric, and would
shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had not Jane, though with some difficulty,
persuaded her to wait till her father was at leisure to be consulted. One day's delay, she
observed, would be of small importance; and her mother was too happy to be quite so
obstinate as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head.
"I will go to Meryton," said she, "as soon as I am dressed, and tell the good, good news to
my sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run
down and order the carriage. An airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls,
can I do anything for you in Meryton? Oh! Here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have you heard
the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall all have a bowl of punch
to make merry at her wedding."
Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her congratulations
amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took refuge in her own room, that she might
think with freedom.
Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was no worse, she had
need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, in looking forward, neither rational
happiness nor worldly prosperity could be justly expected for her sister, in looking back to
what they had feared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had
gained.